


Pleasurable entertainment

by NotPersephone



Series: Count and Countess Lecter [10]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, attending the opera, happy marrieds, with extra caresses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 10:36:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14400363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone
Summary: As the orchestra begins to play and the curtain opens to a round of applause, she senses him shifting in his seat, until he is close enough to put his arm around her. His hand rests gently on her shoulder and Bedelia relaxes under his touch.





	Pleasurable entertainment

The spacious opera box is empty, apart from two seats, plush red velvet, waiting for its patrons in silent invitation. Bedelia looks at the setting with approval; she values their privacy as much as Hannibal does.

“ _Danke schön_ ,” Hannibal states courtly as she moves to appraise the view from the balcony.

The harsher than usual tone of his voice can be attributed to the foreign language, words ill-fitting on his tongue, but it is in fact provoked by the escorting attendant’s lingering stare on Bedelia. The man in question nods briefly and leaves the opera box without delay as Bedelia’s cautious eyes rest on Hannibal. His own gaze remains fixed on the closing doors and she is certain its ghost will haunt the attendant for the entire evening.

Bedelia barely glances at the auditorium below them as she steps closer to Hannibal and places her fingers on his bow tie, straightening the non-existent twist. The bow tie is a deep shade of ruby, matching the colour of her own dress. It streams around her body like heady wine, tempting and intoxicating, complementing the spun gold of her cascading locks. She makes a final adjustment to the bow and her hands slide down slowly to rest on the lapel of his perfectly fitting black tuxedo. They are an exceptionally striking couple, Bedelia knows it well, it is only natural that people stare at them.

“Perhaps it was not a good idea,” she says, her eyes glimmering brightly.

“Nonsense,” Hannibal responds, swimming in the bright blue of her gaze, which calms him and restrains him at the same time, “I thought you would enjoy tonight. This is the first show after the renovation.”

“I am enjoying it,” she appreciates the endeavour he puts into everything they do, always placing her enjoyment first. In all and _every way_. But her vigilant mind cannot be silenced.

“We are safe, Bedelia,” sensing her thoughts, he places his hand on top of hers, thumb brushing over her wedding rings, his eyes once again warm and clear, previous annoyance long gone.

The corner of her lips curls up slightly and she exhales slowly, his reassurance putting her at ease. She presses her hands against his chest once more, before moving back to admire the newly refurbished theatre, dripping with opulent gold and illuminated by lavish chandeliers. Her contemplation is interrupted by a knock on a door; the waiter arrives with their drinks. He sets down the tray and his eyes do not pause inappropriately which in turn earns him a generous tip from Hannibal. Bedelia arches an eyebrow and smiles with amusement as the young man leaves, but Hannibal says nothing. He hands her the glass of sherry and they take their seats at last.

The safety curtain lifts, revealing more gushing red velvet, and the guests rush to their chairs as the hum of excitement suffuses the air. The musicians take their place in front of the stage and Bedelia observes the people below, sipping on her liquor. The lights dim just as she savours the last drop and a hand appears at once, ready to relieve her of the empty glass. Hannibal’s attentiveness never fails. As the orchestra begins to play and the curtain opens to a round of applause, she senses him shifting in his seat, until he is close enough to put his arm around her. His hand rests gently on her shoulder and Bedelia relaxes under his touch.

The spectacle commences, and she feels her body charged with anticipation, which has nothing to do with the music and voices filling the auditorium. She looks over the stalls and the balconies opposite them, but all the spectators are engrossed in the events taking place on stage.

It isn’t until the third aria that Hannibal’s other hand slowly brushes her hair away, revealing her neck. An instant shiver surges up her spine and she licks her lips in silent delight. Hannibal moves closer still, until his lips find her exposed collarbone, making Bedelia inhale sharply. He kisses her there repeatedly, lingering and unhurried caresses, while his fingers continue to stroke her locks. His nose brushes the uncovered skin and Bedelia shifts in her chair as his touch moves higher, to the column of her neck. Each nudge of his nose sets off sparks beneath her skin and he seals each one of them with a press of his lips, intensifying the sensation.

“Hannibal,” she whispers, and the caresses stop.

“Yes?” he mutters into her skin, before kissing her again.

“You are missing the performance,” she says before swallowing a sigh building in the back of her throat.

“I am not. The tenor seems a bit flat,” he states firmly, and his lips move to the sensitive spot under her jawline.

This time Bedelia sighs softly and Hannibal’s lips unfurl into a smile against her skin. It is just a part of their game. He knows how much she enjoys his adoring touch.

As the show continues, so do Hannibal’s caresses. His kisses travel up and down her neck, lips soft, yet firm, burning steadily on her skin, and Bedelia closes her eyes, relishing the music and the pleasure. The pleasure which grows stronger with each minute, the flush of her cheeks slowly matching the hue of her dress and radiating deep within her core.

“ _Hannibal_ ,” an unexcepted whimper leaves her lips.

This time his lips move away, and he looks up at her, maroon eyes gleaming even in the dark.

“Would be it very rude if we left early?” she asks quietly, and Hannibal’s eyes light up further with evident glee.

“Are you not enjoying the performance?” he teases her with a smile on his lips.

“The tenor _is_ a bit flat,” she retorts at once, making him grin more.

“The intermission is in five minutes,” he leans forward again and whispers into her ear before flicking his tongue over her earlobe.

A satisfied groan reverberates deep in Bedelia’s throat and she reaches her hand to stroke his hair. She looks forward to this evening’s other entertainment.

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of domestic bedannibal, inspired by a headcanon that Hannibal cannot keep his hands off Bedelia when they attend any opera or theatre performance, and obviously ensures they always have a private box just to themselves. And Bedelia loves it, even if won't admit it out loud.


End file.
